


Cataclysm

by SylverFletcher



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Chat has PTSD probably, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Horror, I promise it turns out okay, Nightmare Fuel, Nightmares, Not Really Character Death, Physical Disability, Slightly - Freeform, alternate ending to Dark Cupid, cataclysm on a person, its sorta relevant, that is apparently a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 22:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16395875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylverFletcher/pseuds/SylverFletcher
Summary: A look into just how differently the ending of Dark Cupid could have gone, if Chat had been just a little less aware of his hand, and the lasting effects it causes.





	Cataclysm

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written months ago and I just never posted it but hey what with that thing that happened in the first half of the season 2 finale I feel like this is a good time for it

A flash of red blurred through the window, crashing hard against the floor an instant later. Ladybug rolled a few feet after the impact until she finally came to a stop, and lay still where she landed, panting helplessly. Pink sparkles enveloped her form, leaving behind Marinette curled on the ground, her eyes scrunched shut and sweat beading on her forehead.

Tikki zipped from her earrings, coming to float in the air above her chosen. Concern marred her tiny face as she took in the sight of Marinette’s left shoulder, the skin turning black and bubbling outward from a hand-shaped mark.

It wasn’t meant to happen. They didn’t mean for it to, Chat Noir didn’t even know. He’d simply lost sight of where his hand was when he pinned her to the ground, and the damage went right through her suit. He couldn’t see nor remember what had happened by the time she broke the spell on him, his Lady visually no worse for wear when he’d come to his senses.

She hid her pain as they parted ways. She didn’t want him to know.

Trembling on the floor, Marinette brought a hand to the damaged skin, flinching when her unhurt hand touched it. Charred black flakes fluttered to the floor, her skin disintegrating under the tiniest movement. Her eyes opened for a moment, nothing but tiny slits of blue as she breathed through the pain, and her panic rose when she saw it for herself. Her shoulder looked like the effects on a monster in a horror movie, or maybe a freshly overly roasted marshmallow, when it’s been held over a fire for too long and the outer layers crumble away in nothing but blackness.

And it was still spreading.

Her Charm should have reversed the effects of everything, but as she was learning now, it couldn’t turn back her counterpart’s power when used on a human. Her magic couldn’t fix this. Looking up, her face still pale from both panic and the injury, her eyes met Tikki’s. Neither had any words, neither knew what to do. Tikki couldn’t fix the damage. They both helplessly looked back to the spreading blackness on Marinette’s skin, bubbling as it ate away at her flesh.

 

* * *

 

 

Adrien sighed, leaning his head into his hand where it rested on his desk. Something was wrong, he couldn’t shake it. The way Ladybug acted so strange after their last encounter, the way her eyes were watering in pain as she darted away from him as quickly as possible. She swung her yo-yo strangely weakly, nearly missing her target, and was gone without even doing their victory fist bump with him. It was almost like she was trying to escape something, and he had a feeling it didn’t have to do with the emotions of the day or his attempt at wooing her.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the classroom door opening, and when his gaze darted up to investigate, something inside him twisted. It was Marinette, coming in late as usual, but something was incredibly  _ off _ . She was wearing a long sleeved undershirt that covered from her wrists to the top of her neck, her face was too pale, her eyes dull and glazed over as she stumbled in. She winced every time she moved.

Strangest of all, she stumbled right past him without even seeming to notice his presence, or anyone else’s. She crumpled into her seat, and even Alya couldn’t get a single reaction or reply from her.

Turning to the board, Adrien couldn’t shake the feeling something was horribly wrong. Looking down, he caught the grave eyes of the black cat hiding in his shirt pocket, and knew he wasn’t the only one that felt it.

 

* * *

 

 

He watched her closely the entire school day, and everything only continued to pile onto his concern. She spoke to no one, almost seeming like an empty shell who wasn’t mentally there today, too drawn back into her own mind to notice anyone. The only time she reacted to anything was when Alix skated by too fast and clipped right into her shoulder, and Marinette fell to her knees with a silent scream, her entire body trembling. She swatted away Alix and Alya without a word, escaping away to their next class, when they showed their concern and tried to help her.

Something was definitely badly wrong, and he was going to find out what.

When the day ended and he was back in his room, Adrien wasted no time in freeing Plagg from his pocket. The cat gave no complaints about it as he transformed and flew from the window, the Kwami’s green eyes full of knowing fear that Adrien was too afraid to acknowledge.

He crossed the city in no time at all and landed on Marinette’s balcony, his feet completely silent. The trapdoor leading into her room was open, letting in the evening air, and Chat Noir didn’t mean to eavesdrop but the voices wafting from inside caught his attention. Crouching low to the floor, he eased to the opening, and listened closely.

“I don’t know what to do.” It was Marinette’s voice, the first time he’d heard it all day, and she sounded  _ bad _ . Her voice had no strength, no volume, and crackled like someone who was horribly sick. A bell-like chiming answered her, and the cat hero’s eyes flew wide as he recognized it as a voice. A very ethereal, magical voice.

“I don’t either, Marinette. This has never happened before.” It jingled, lilting with concern, and Chat couldn’t help his curiosity.  He ducked around the opening in the floor, getting at just the right angle to peer in at the source of the voices. Marinette was collapsed on the chaise under her window, a tiny red sprite hovering in the air above her. His breath caught. “No Ladybug has ever been a victim of this.”

That confirmed it.

But it didn’t answer his other question. Victim of what?

“He can’t know.” Marinette, Ladybug, crackled back in her broken voice. “He’ll never forgive himself.”

“He has to know. What do you think he’ll do, or think, if you suddenly vanish? Or if this continues… and he finds out what happened after. If he finds out from someone else, or the news, after you…” The red Kwami kept trailing off, a tone of doom to her voice. Chat felt his hair stand on end, the paranoid part of his brain starting to piece together an idea of what was going on. “Chat Noirs never handle the loss of their Ladybug well. You have to tell him yourself, or it’ll be worse. And maybe, maybe he can help? Maybe Plagg knows how to reverse his own power…”

Even as Chat’s world fell from beneath him, the dots connecting, he could still hear the note of resigned desperation in the Kwami’s voice. She didn’t believe in what she was saying. So drawn into his own head and realization was he, that the cat hero didn’t notice himself actually falling until he’d crashed into the room below. When he looked up from his own tangle of legs, Marinette hadn’t moved at all, her eyes only weakly looking over at him, while the Kwami above looked like a deer caught in headlights. As she unfroze and zipped away to hide from sight, he spoke.

“It’s okay.” Sitting upright, he looked where the little red blur had gone. “I… know. You don’t need to hide.”

Slowly the Kwami peeked from her hiding place, eyeing him like a scared cat, before zipping back to watch over her chosen. Just the same, Chat rose to his feet, and padded over to where Marinette was laying. Still as a statue, collapsed on the lounge, watching him weakly.

“My Lady.” He almost whispered, taking her left hand. Her eyes glistened as they tried to fill with tears.

“I’m sorry, Chat. How much did you hear?”

Her voice sounded so much worse up close, and he winced. “Enough, I think. I hope I’m wrong, but I think I know what’s going on.” He had an idea, he did. But it hadn’t quite hit him yet, his mind unable to admit what it was clearly. It was clouded with denial.

She said nothing, still unmoving, and he was struck by how little energy she must have. Part of him wondered how much pain she was in.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way.” She wheezed, coughing weakly. He tightened his grip on her hand, gently.

He wanted to reassure her. Wanted to tell her it was wonderful to know of all people, she was his Lady. He wanted to tell her she was going to be okay, that he wouldn’t let her be done in here like this.

Some other part of him had other plans. He needed to know for sure.

“Can I see it?”

Fear flickered across her face, before turning to resignation, knowing he was going to see it one way or another anyway. “If you’re sure you can handle it. It’s not pretty, okay? And you’ll have to help me.” At his nod, she weakly took his hands, and put them on the hem of her shirt. His face flushed, realizing.

But she didn’t care about that, right now. Too much pain was coursing through her for her to even remember to be self conscious. Slowly Chat helped her sit up, and pulled the material off over her head as gently as he could. As soon as she was free of it, she fell back against the lounge, panting from the effort.

The cat hero, meanwhile, couldn’t take his eyes off her. His stomach turned. Her skin was black across her entire torso nearly, the bubbling magic charring her skin all the way from just above the wrist of her left hand, to just above her collarbones, all the way down to her ribs, only stopping in a splotchy pattern down the middle of her chest. At the center of it all, eaten away deeper than the rest and spackled faintly with blood, a hand shape was practically carved into her shoulder.

She watched his face with pained eyes, too weak to move the rest of her expression. His cat green eyes were flitting back and forth, taking in all of it, the color drained from his face and pure horror taking its place. “I’m sorry.” She managed, voice getting weaker, and he almost missed it. His eyes snapped to her face.

“ _ You’re _ sorry? You’re the one hurt. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His head dipped, and he wanted so badly to press it to her and pull her close, but he didn’t dare. He could see her pain, could see the way her skin powdered away each time she moved. “I should, I don’t know what I should be doing. There’s nothing I can do to make up for this.”

“It’s okay.”

There was a pause, Marinette too weak to keep talking and Chat’s insides burning with intense regret. Finally, “How much does it hurt?” his eyes were sad, and she almost didn’t want to tell him the truth.

“It’s like burning.” She finally said, weakly, and then almost managed a half smile, coming back to an earlier thought with morbid amusement. “Like when you roast a marshmallow too much.”

He winced. He imagined fire under her skin, burning it away. That’s what was happening, really. Unable to stare at her charred skin any longer, Chat looked up to the red Kwami watching them both with sadness. “What can I do?” He asked the tiny ancient being, searching her blue eyes for answers. She only shook her head.

Marinette wheezed under him, as breathing became more difficult. Her time was running out, he thought dully, watching the black magic eat further along into her pale skin, spreading. With no other ideas, the room flashed green, and Chat was replaced with Adrien. Any reaction Marinette would have had was dulled by the pain, leaving her to simply lay back against the pillows and close her eyes. She barely registered who he was.

“Plagg?” Both Adrien and Tikki turned to the tiny black cat expectantly, who did nothing but avert his eyes.

“I’m the power of destruction. I can’t take back what I’ve destroyed.”

Both sagged at his words, any little hope they had left being crushed. Still, Adrien patted his Kwami’s head gently. It wasn’t his fault. In response the cat flew into his hands, hiding his green eyes against his chosen’s shirt, and Tikki joined him.

Holding the two ancient spirits, Adrien watched his partner struggle for life. Watched as her skin bled ever blacker, the magic eating further and further, and her breaths came less and less often. His heart fell more with each passing second as she succumbed to his magic.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ve often wondered what my Cataclysm would do to a person.”

Her eyes widened beneath him, fear reflecting up from within the expanse of beautiful blue. Something inside him twisted at the sight, the back of his mind screaming to back away from her, but his limbs kept moving without him telling them to. They pinned her arms down, her body flattened in place under his, and his free hand, bubbling with destructive power, was poised threateningly above them both. The air was still, tense. For a moment nothing moved, both of them caught in the tension, fearful blue staring into possessed green.

And then it was broken. Green blinked, and his arm swung, his palm connecting with her shoulder.

Instantly her head pressed back against the concrete, her eyes scrunching shut in pain as she cried out, a ragged scream that could only come from someone whose body is being disintegrated before their very eyes. And it was; the black spread from his hand and into her, burning away her suit and right into the skin underneath, eating away her flesh at a horribly fast rate. In seconds her shoulder decayed into nothing, flesh and bone turning to char and ash and crumbling to the ground in a pile of fine powder. Her sparkling blue eyes opened again to stare up at him in abject horror, their shine dulling as blood began to pour down her cheek from the corner of her mouth.

The magic continued on. Even as her screams fizzled out, leaving her mouth hanging open in a frozen cry and her eyes turned dark, the black kept spreading over her body. Her shoulder gone, its arm fell to the ground, disconnected, and the bubbling rose outward in all directions. It cascaded down the severed arm, up her neck, down the rest of her limp body. It ate away her suit before burning away skin and then tearing into flesh, leaving him glimpses of red and bleeding, flashes of white before bones were broken down into nothing.

Feeling rushed back into his limbs, control of his body his own again. He grasped desperately, in shock, at the powdered black ashes of his partner as she withered away underneath him. The dust that remained of her body coated his hands, his suit, stirred into the air as he disturbed it and clouded his lungs as he breathed harder and harder. He coughed, choking on her, what he’d  _ done _ to her, as he watched the skin and flesh be eaten away from her skull before that too crumbled, the powder getting caught by wind and coating his body and face in a layer of the morbid substance.

Coughing more, he screamed what little breath he could find, screaming and screaming until his voice was ragged and his throat was sore and he couldn’t stop, his screams choking him just like the destroyed remains of his Lady, his  _ love _ , who he had killed with his own power.

Hands grasped at his back, wrapping around his torso and he jolted, but they only tightened. “Adrien, Adrien! Mon chaton, shhhhh.” A voice soothed, a face in his back, breath on his suddenly bare skin.

His eyes snapped open. He was met with a bedroom, a dim light, his body already sitting upright as his screaming slowly ran out in a ragged crackle. The soothing voice continued and he wrenched away, wide green eyes looking desperately to see who he had been so foolish and uncaring as to replace  _ her _ with--

Tired blue stared back at him, love and patience in the gaze. Blue tinted hair fell loose and limp, not in pigtails, but still familiar. The thin straps of her nearly sheer pink nightgown did nothing to cover the blotchy, mottled and ragged looking scar that marred the entire expanse of her left arm, torso, and neck. The hand-shaped indentation in her shoulder where the muscle was eaten away forever was horribly obvious in the dim light as it caught shadows in its hollows. He winced at the sight, and she tugged him back into her grasp.

“It’s okay. It’s all over now, it’s better.” Marinette soothed again, turning him within her arms so she could rest her chin on his chest and look warmly up at his face. Her voice was low, kind, and not a trace of hurt, regret, or blame in it. “It was a long time ago.”

Slowly his breathing evened out, automatically matching to hers without him realizing as she purposely breathed evenly onto his bare skin. Her fingers traced patterns onto his back, sometimes pressing into his knotted muscles and rubbing the tension away. His body relaxed under her touch, and his eyes fell closed as he laid back against the bed, his partner tugging herself with him as he went.

“My poor chaton.” She murmured, lips ghosting over the skin of his chest as she spoke, and he shivered. “If only I could take the nightmares away. It was so long ago.”

“Doesn’t change what I did.” His voice was rough, scratchy. He felt her wince.

“You didn’t do it. You had no control, you didn’t know what you were being used for.” Her head turned, resting her ear on his chest and looking up at him again. He gazed weakly down. “I survived, I healed. You’re the only one still suffering.”

“I should have--”

She cut him off, clambering up to his level and raising herself to look directly down into his eyes. He didn’t miss the way she favored one arm, her weight resting more on the uninjured one.  He never missed it, the way the scarred one physically just didn’t have the muscle to do what she needed sometimes, the way she sometimes couldn’t lift even the most mundane of things with it anymore. “You made up for it a long time ago, Adrien. We knew there’d be risks from the first day we accepted the Miraculous, and sometimes, they couldn’t be avoided. You’ve saved me more times than I can count, you have far more scars than I do, worse ones than this, ones that were my fault. What matters is that we’re both alive, together.”

Finally, the traumatized cat hero sighed, looking up into her determined eyes. “I know.” Adrien croaked weakly, admitting defeat. Above him, she relaxed, and leaned down to place a comforting kiss to his lips. As she did, her weak arm trembling under her weight caught his attention, though he didn’t mention it. Instead, a supporting hand merely came to rest on her ribs, on the weak side, holding her up while he sighed again into her kiss.

“It’s okay.” She broke away just far enough to mumble against his mouth, and he hummed. Marinette tilted her head, pressing kisses to the corner of his mouth and down his cheek, speaking with each one. “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. My Chat Noir is the best one, every other Ladybug got bamboozled, cause they didn’t have mine.”

Unable to help it even in his gloomy post-nightmare angst, a light and airy laugh escaped him at the word ‘bamboozled’, lighting up his face in a carefree way that melted his Lady’s heart, giving  her warm flashbacks to a memory in the rain. In response, she kissed him again, pouring the love from the memory into it for just a few moments. He was left breathless when she pulled away again, smiling down at his red face.

“You’re my Chat, and I’d never give you up for anything. I’d never change the past, or take away my scars. They’re there for a reason, they show what we’ve survived, what we accomplished. I only wish you could be free of the nightmares.” Slowly, almost timidly as if she was afraid of how he’d react, she took his hand, the one with the familiar white ring. She held it up, inspected his fingers, and ever so gingerly, pulled them toward herself. Adrien gasped as she pressed his hand into the indentation in her shoulder, his palm and fingers fitting perfectly into the space. His heart flipped wildly, his face turning bright red again, as he looked back to her face, his emotions unsure of what to do. Her expression was unbelievably warm, something in her eyes making a tiny voice in the back of his head whisper that she felt complete with his hand filling the void. After what felt like an eternity, her hand pressed firmly on top of his in her shoulder, her eyes gazing down at him as if he was her entire world, she spoke in a low purr. “And I can’t speak for all of Paris, but  _ I’ll _ never forget who my hero is.”

And if his reaction was to pull her against him and hold her close, kissing her like they’d never see the sunrise while happy tears poured down his face, the ancient spirits lounging in their tiny bed on the nightstand wouldn’t tell a soul.

Well, maybe far in the future, they’d tell their chosens’ descendants about the Chat Noir who broke the stereotype of black cats and found some of his Lady’s good luck.


End file.
